Transplants
by Spinereader
Summary: Ten year old Mello makes a clumsy foray into the world of romance, dragging Matt along for the ride.


**Title:** Transplants

**Summary:** Ten-year-old Mello makes a clumsy foray into the world of romance, dragging Matt along for the ride.

**Disclaimer:** All I own are the books, that weren't even written by me. I'm not making a cent off this.

**Author's Note: **What's better than a lame Valentines story? A lame Valentines story that's late! Oh well, hopefully you'll still find a little entertainment value in it.  
Something that might be of interest; Jana, the unofficial student mentor, is my fanon version of the young woman we saw in canon, standing in the hall decked out in an apron when Mello pulled on that kid's hair.  
--

Mathier remembered, much to Mello's relief. The professor forgot to give out graded papers often, and when she did remember, it was near the end of class, like today.

"Class, I must say, I was surprised to discover just how strongly you captured the themes of trepidation and suspense in your stories," said the woman, holding in her hand a stack of papers. "Brady, October, yours were downright chilling! Poe would've been impressed."

Mathier went on and on about Poe and his style, and Mello blocked her out, kicking the legs of the desk behind him to pass the time. Who cared about a diseased, incestuous paedo who spent his life moping? Mello wanted to see his score! He knew it would be high. Creative writing was something he had a talent for.

Eventually she laid down the papers on the front desks and asked the students to pass them back. Once Tabula turned back to hand over the remainder of the stack to Mello, he took it from her, grabbing his stapled together story off the top and forgetting about the remaining ones. From behind him, Dain sighed and made a show of getting up and collecting the rest off Mello's desk.

Now was the moment, now Mello would see the one-hundred (eighty-five, at worst) on the top of the page and a personal comment. Mello guessed it would be a complement on the intense detail he'd given Sara's murder, or the best part, the rib cage removal. Mello'd made that part really dramatic, with the victim screaming in agony throughout.

Finally, Mello gave in and looked. Instead of a one-hundred, or even eighty-five, it was a fifty, and her comment simply stated, "Assignment was suspense, not gratuitous gore". He was so shocked he had to look twice to make sure that's what it said.

"You gave me a fifty for something this good?" yelled Mello, waving the papers. The professor may well have been speaking, but Mello didn't know or care.

Having long since grown accustomed to Mello's outbursts, Mathier merely regarded Mello with resignation.

"Raise your hand please. And if you'd like to discuss the grade we can after class."

Sulking, Mello leaned over to Matt's desk to grab his story. On it was a ninety-five and the words, "Gripping! Such powerful imagery with the flickering lightbulb." Mello wanted to rip it into shreds! But at ten years old, Mello was too mature for that. He spit on it and roughly threw it towards Matt. The other boy said nothing but glowered at Mello. Matt couldn't stand him ever since they met.

Mello felt in the mood to torture himself further, so he made the boy in the next row over grab Near's paper and show him. Creative writing had never been Near's strong point, so Mello hoped it wouldn't be that great. Checking, he found the boy had gotten an eighty and the comment, "Very good, but could use more exposition". Well, apparently Mello wasn't the only one Mathier criticised. That was something at least.

"Looks as though time is up," announced the professor. "This week's assignment is to read and study Poe's The Raven and tell me your interpretation of the poem and of the raven itself. What does it represent to you? Is it a personification of the grim reaper, or perhaps someone entirely different, such as Satan or Nostradamus? Or is it, to you, merely a plot element to enhance the atmosphere?"

The students made note of this in their day planners and notebooks. Mello scrawled "The Raven, write junk" on his arm, where he wrote all assignments.

The room took on a rumble as students tucked in chairs and shuffled to the door. The others had gotten so used to Mello trying to trip them that they never fell for his tricks anymore and Mello had finally given up. However, he did manage to slam his elbow against Dain's arm and send everything he held crashing to the floor. Mello thought it served the little wanker right for being rude earlier and always getting behind on paying Mello.

A few people crouched down on the floor to help Dain, and Mello stepped down hard on the hand of one of them, ignoring her cry as he stormed up to the desk and threw down "Screams of Blood".

"What the hell is wrong with this?" Mello demanded.

The woman pulled off her glasses to rub her eyes.

"Mello, you seriously need to keep that temper in check," said Mathier. "It worries me how you go off at the merest provocation. Now, if you will settle down and pull up a chair, we will discuss this."

The people who'd assisted Dain shot Mello dark looks as they exited the room. Mello sneered and flipped them off as he passed them, out of view of the professor.

"Don't think I didn't see that," snapped Mathier. "Now about the grade. Do you honestly not know what I meant by "suspense, not gore"?"

Why did people ask that when the answer was obvious?

"You didn't say we'd have to censor it," Mello shot back.

"No, you didn't have to. But you had very little but gore and it was overly graphic.

"Mello, there's a reason we watched Rear Window a few weeks back and have been studying Poe's works. I want you to get a feel of the techniques they used, setting the scene. There's an art to it. You must harness the elements surrounding the scene and the fear of the unknown to paint a picture. You did not. You also didn't give any plausibility, or even strong motive for James' actions."

"I did too, I said James had heard from a mate that his wife was cheating," argued Mello.

Mathier leaned back in her seat, placing her hands in her lap patiently.

"Yes, a rumour. You showed no proof of this or gave any indication that James had anything more to go on. Why did he have no doubts when Calvin revealed his suspicions? You said James had always been a peaceful man who loved Sara a great deal."

Mello itched his cheek, uncomfortable at receiving a question he had no good answer to.

"Cause Calvin's damned convincing! Who cares, it's the murder that's important!"

The woman got that expression on her face that drove Mello mad, the one that made him feel like a child.

"Mello, setting up a scene and giving plausible motive are the most significant things. We need to care enough about the characters that we are shocked when James murders his wife. But he was enraged from the first page, giving us no doubt as to what would transpire. It made him flat. We gained no insight into him or into Sara. She served only as the helpless victim, a plot device."

That struck Mello as a silly complaint.

"That's how it is in horror films," said Mello. "No one cares about the targets and you laugh when you see them run from the killer."

"That is a slasher film, they aren't meant to have depth," countered Mathier. "I wanted something transcending that."

"But the murder was cool, wasn't it?" hoped Mello.

She rubbed her eyes again and Mello knew her opinion before she gave it.

"It was...remarkably violent and thorough. I hadn't expected over nine pages of description. And I certainly hadn't expected Sara to remain conscious through being thrown down the stairs, beaten, strangled, slashed, and disembowelled. The poor woman didn't pass on until James sliced open her chest and removed her rib cage. In fact, she screamed and sobbed the entire time. How exactly did she manage this?" There it was, the tactful voice.

"Lots of stamina, I reckon," said Mello with a shrug.

"No one could survive that much," Mathier insisted. "At the very least Sara would have passed out by the point where he pulled out her intestines, "pulling them out as though he was pulling taffy". And it's "were" not "was", by the way.

"Exactly what inspired these ideas?"

"Films," replied Mello, shrugging again. "I remember the part with the rib cage in...Evil Dead, I think."

Mathier cringed. "Then I'm marking you down to forty for plagiarism.

"I know very little about Evil Dead, but I've been led to believe it isn't meant to be taken seriously, and is in fact a great deal less realistic than even other slasher films. There is certainly no one who could live through either a rib removal or disembowelment.

"Read the Poe book I assigned you and note how few murder details he gives out. Focus on the terror Sara feels, fearing the inevitable assault. Tell me what led to this moment with broader exposition, and show me things that will heighten her anxiety. There's more to death than the act itself. I'll let you write a new story for this assignment, this time with the intent of suspense."

This was humiliating! Mello could practically hear the words "you're a terrible writer" in his head.

"I spent forever writing those twelve pages! And I'm proud of it! I'm not writing another paper! Read it again, you'll see it's good."

"It's fine for a campy slasher story," she told him. "But that isn't what I requested of you. You're one of the best writers in my class, I know you can write something better."

"Why would I? It's not my fault you're too weak to handle gore," Mello sniped, jumping to his feet. "Just read it again without being so self righteous and you'll see I deserve a higher mark."

"Do not insult me or I'll rescind my offer." An edge had crept into the woman's voice. "But forty is as high as you deserve for "Screams of Blood". Not only did you completely ignore the requirement entirely, you ripped scenes from films. You're lucky I was as indulgent as I was."

So not only did Mathier think she could insult his story, she thought Mello should be grateful for it? His temper boiled over and he kicked her in the shin as hard as he could with his boot. She howled in pain, grabbing the leg with one hand and Mello's arm with the other.

"Mr Roger's office, now! You tell him what you did or I will! And it'll be far worse for you if I do."

Mello regretted what he did the moment it happened. Why did he have to be so rash? Now he just had to get out.

"Fine!" Not bothering to grab his books from his desk, Mello stormed out, slamming the door so hard he heard something fall in the classroom.

If he'd been a girl he'd run into the loo to cry. But he was a boy, and Mello to boot, so he raged silently as he strode down the corridor. All that work and he undoubtedly had the worst score in class. And thanks to his temper he went and hit a professor. Everything was so wrong.

He walked by the geography classroom and saw Matt in there, standing with Cora who was holding his hand. Something cold and heavy slammed into the bottom of Mello's stomach and he could only stare at that hand.

Matt's defensive blue eyes met Mello's.

No cutting insult sprung to mind for Mello to throw out, so he turned to Cora.

"Enjoy having a boyfriend as stupid as you," Mello shouted as he left. It was weak, completely untrue for both of them, and too dumb to be hurtful. But he couldn't help it, he hated her so much at that moment.

When he spotted the headmaster's office he burst right in. Roger was on the phone but waved him in.

"Mathier got me right pissed and I kicked her in the shins. Punish me when you get the chance," said Mello loudly, despite Roger still being on the phone.

The man excused himself to the caller and put down the receiver.

"Mello! What on earth is wrong with you! How dare you assault a professor. I don't have time for this today, go see Miss Jana and she'll dole out the punishment. She has far more tolerance for you than the rest of the staff."

Jana was none too important, merely the history professor's assistant and fresh out of grad school. But for whatever reason she liked Mello and vice versa. Therefore he had her deal with Mello much of the time.

Mello went down to the history classroom and poked his head in. He should have sat down, as it was his class and set to start in minutes, but he was too upset to attend. But history wasn't going anywhere.

Jana sat on the desk, hanging her legs off the edge and tightening her short brown ponytail as she looked over paperwork. Mello noticed she was humming but couldn't place the tune.

"Roger sent me," Mello announced.

The professor continued wiping down the dry erase board, but Jana glanced up, making a face.

"Ugh, you did something again? This is at least twice a week lately. Honestly!"

Careful of the books and paperwork, she jumped off the desk.

"Go on Jana, it's fine," said Murdock with a nod. Jana emerged in the doorway, hands in pockets.

"Come on, we'll talk in the rec room again," she told him.

Mello started off and Jana soon followed after complementing Linda, who was heading into the room, on her cherry body spray.

He pulled out a chocolate bar as they walked along, breaking off a chunk. The adrenaline had started wearing off a bit, finally.

The pair reached the basement room and Jana threw herself into a beanbag chair. Mello took the video game chair.

"So, what's the damage Mello?" asked Jana a bit wearily.

"Plenty, but Mathier's shin is the important one. I slammed a boot into it when I had enough," Mello replied, rocking a bit in his chair. "And yes I know it was dumb."

"Good!" She pulled a Connect Four game from an adjacent shelf and set up the board between them. Every time they went down there one of them would inevitably pull it out and they'd start up a game without a word.

"What started you off?" Jana wondered as she dropped a black checker down the farthest row.

"She hated that story I did for the Poe unit, said I had to write a new one if I wanted better than a forty."

"Forty?" She raised her eyebrows at this. "No wonder you're upset. Were you happy with it?"

That's what he liked about Jana. She knew what things set him off and carefully worked around saying them. Everyone else did the exact opposite.

"It was twelve pages and I worked so hard on it," Mello griped. "Matt got a ninety-five and Near got an eighty. That was bad enough, but then it got worse. She ripped it apart, I kicked her, and...Cora! I hate her worse than Matt."

"Ah," said Jana knowingly. Scanning the rack, she soon spotted Mello's near victory and dropped a checker down. "I know you've never hated Matt at all, so don't bother pretending. I'd never tell anyone the truth."

Jana knew? Mello was sure no one knew. He'd been tormenting Matt ever since he arrived a year and a half ago. Unlike with the other kids at Wammy's, Mello never pre-  
emptively harmed Matt. But he did all he could to ensure the boy always noticed him.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Jana let it go and for the next two minutes they did nothing but play. But then Mello changed his mind.

"She held his hand! I don't know why he didn't stop her. He should've broken her fingers. But...he didn't even mind!"

He turned away, flushing, and repeated, "I don't wanna talk about it."

Jana allowed another silence to fall as she proceeded to beat Mello twice in a row.

"Back to business," she announced. "I think you know one of the things you have to do to make the situation with Professor Mathier better."

Making a face, Mello nodded. It seemed he spent half his life having to make apologies to people.

"She's quite forgiving, so it shouldn't be too horrid.

"The other thing you need to do you will hate. She offered to let you write a new assignment, and if the offer is still open, I think you should take it."

He boggled, horrified that she'd ever suggest it.

"Mello, I know her, she had a valid reason for wanting you to write a new story. What reason did she give you?"

"She wanted suspense, and apparently I wrote gore." He glowered at her, as hard as he could.

"Then write suspense! I've read that story of yours that was posted on the bulletin board. Your details and metaphors were great. You got a ninety-eight on that one. If you write this then everyone will forget all about your last paper with the low score. Plus you love to write so it'll be fine.

"It's probably the best punishment I could give you, so take it. Otherwise I'll have to assign you toilet cleaning or something."

Defying Jana's punishments never benefited Mello. She had to relate them to Roger, so if he refused he had both of them nagging him. Mello shrugged, giving wordless consent.

They went another two rounds of Connect Four, with Mello winning these. It was surprising, since he could barely concentrate. He kept seeing Cora, with her blue eyes and long blonde curls. He once thought she was pretty, but then she touched Matt and he hated her. Only he could touch Matt, so far as he was concerned.

Since Mello had no one he could share things like this with, and he needed help, he pushed pride aside and brought it up to Jana.

"Jana...will he always like her?"

"Who?" she wondered for a split second. "Oh, Matt! No, I promise you this'll pass soon. He's ten and she's eleven, no one has serious relationships this young."

Pretending to read the game titles on the shelf, he muttered, "It better not be because she's a girl."

Jana leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles.

"Mello, you know it's rare for boys to like anyone but girls. Matt might not ever. But if you'd stop tormenting him you might at least have him as a friend one day."

She didn't need to tell him that. He knew how rare it was to find boys like him. Mello still had never found one, at least not his age. Oh he experimented a bit on Near some nights, since Near always let him, but Mello didn't know if he cared. He couldn't stand Near most of the time, but it was nice to pretend he wasn't the only boy who didn't just like girls.

"But I like making Matt mad! It's exciting. He gets all red and touches me sometimes."

When he realised how that sounded, he flushed and took a bite of his bar.

"I mean shove me or grab me, nothing adult!" he muttered around the chocolate. "Just forget I said it!"

"Please relax, I'm here to help," Jana insisted, holding up her hands. "As long as you keep making Matt feel like you hate him, he'll hate you. I know that hurts. It'll be Valentines in a week. Get in the spirit by being nicer to him. Trust me, he'll still notice you. And you never know, one day he may feel the same about you."

Mello rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed.

"I'm not saying become his best mate, just let up on the bullying and constant insults. Treat him like a human being." Jana gave a friendly wink.

Mello ignored her as she got up from the chair and crossed the room.

"And Mello," she added from the doorway. "Go see the professor soon, get it over with"

* * *

For some reason the chat with Jana stuck with Mello. He'd certainly heard the same many times in his life. But as he stood at the end of the line at dinner that night, holding his tray and watching Matt with his friends, he felt jealous enough to ponder it.

Like every meal, Mello sat down the table from Matt, close enough to keep tabs on him but far enough away to avoid looking like a stalker. Cora sat next to Matt as she often did, but wasn't holding his hand this time. Still, she did shoot Mello some irritated glances.

The evening wore on as Mello did the usual activities; homework, playing with Near's toys (the boy never cared), visiting with people, and finally getting ready for bed.

Sleep wouldn't come and Mello knew Near's even, congested breaths weren't the sole cause. Not that he couldn't provide reason enough to keep Mello awake when he got sick.

When Mello had enough, he threw off his covers, took the jar of Vaporub off Near's dresser, and smeared a good amount around the boy's mouth and nostrils. Near never did apply enough.

Standing there holding the jar, Mello had to face the fact that he was wide awake. So he decided to go ahead and barge in on Matt. He already did it all the time, and since their doors didn't lock and Matt was too lazy to block his, Matt had to put up with it.

A sliver of light from the hall fell across the middle of Matt's room as Mello slid inside. The only other light in the dim room came from the bulb in Matt's anole cage. Mello rather liked Marvin, even if it made him a little jealous that he didn't have an aunt who'd take him to buy a pet.

Without any reservations on personal space, as usual, he crawled into Matt's bed and curled up beside him. Matt couldn't stand it when Mello came in and did that, but it never stopped Mello. Night was the only time Mello actually liked anyone, and he loved these brief periods of affection before Matt awoke and broke the spell.

Matt remained asleep as Mello brushed the boy's auburn locks off his forehead and slipped a hand under Matt's shirt to rest on his stomach. Not more than a moment later, Matt resignedly pushed Mello off him.

"Stop pestering me," muttered Matt, gracing Mello with a serious attempt at a dark glare.

"Then block the door," said Mello boredly.

Matt rolled away from Mello, waiting for him to leave.

"Matt...do you like Cora?" he whispered. He could feel Court glowering at him from across the room, wishing he'd shut up.

"I like sleep more," Matt grumbled, his back still to Mello.

"What's so great about her?" Mello was too curious to let it go.

Matt's shoulders slumped in resignation.

"I don't know, she's...sweet, and cute." It was obvious Matt wanted Mello to shut up, just like Court.

"And you let her hold your hand." That still bothered Mello, minor though it was.

"Keeps it warm," said Matt as he rolled onto his back.

"But you won't let me touch you," Mello pointed out sulkily.

"Cause you hate me, Cora likes me."

Jana was right, Matt did believe Mello hated him.

"I don't," Mello argued, trying unsuccessfully to hold Matt's hand.

"You've said so. And you've done everything to show it," said Matt, glaring at Mello. "I can't do anything, not even sleep, without you bothering me!"

Court slammed a pillow over his head and pressed it against his ears.

"Do you hate me?" Mello wondered.

Matt paused, seeming to give it thought.

"I'm just...tired. Can't you ever take a break? I know you can't stand me, but stop proving it all the time. All I did was come to Wammy's and you hate me for it. It's not my fault. I wish you'd stop punishing me."

Matt rolled on his side again and Mello knew the conversation was over for him. For Mello, it wasn't.

"You'd ignore me then," said Mello. Matt pointedly did just that.

"You see? I hate that!" snapped Mello. He wasn't even bothering to whisper now. It didn't matter, Court was too afraid of Mello to do anything. Nearly everyone but Matt was afraid of him.

"Fine, I wouldn't ignore you!" hissed Matt. "I doubt I'd ever like someone as mean as you, but I'd be nice to you."

So that was his reward, Matt would be civil towards him? Maybe it was better being enemies then.

"You'd tolerate me but let Cora do anything; smashing!" seethed Mello. He got up in a huff and slammed the door as he left. If Matt wanted nothing to do with him then why did Mello even care?

* * *

It still bothered Mello. In fact it still bothered him enough that he ended up doing just as Matt wanted for the next week, simply because Mello was too apathetic to pester him.

He went though the motions of school life, but with little interest. He didn't even put any effort into tormenting other students, and mostly just snapped at them when they'd speak. The only thing Mello put any effort into was brooding and watching Matt.

Once Valentines Day arrived, Mello had reached the point of resignation on Matt's low opinion of him and didn't think about it often. He let himself enjoy the fun of the holiday. He listened to Mathier recite The Tell-Tale Heart, decked out in a cape and holding a candle, helped his group create a working model of the heart, learned about a murderer who cut out his victim's hearts, and ate a Valentines themed lunch. Finally, in the last class, everyone exchanged valentines. Mello loved that, because there were always kids like him who were too lazy to make cards or write anything much, and instead put sweets or toys in them.

As Mello sat at his desk going through the lot, he found a handmade valentine with a colourful geometric pattern on the front. Inside, he found the message to be written in a complicated code with both letters and numbers. The only word that didn't need decrypting was the name at the bottom; Matt.

Mello worked at cracking the code through the rest of class, and for two hours up in his room before working through dinner. As Mello and the others walked out of the dining hall, Near intervened.

"I believe Matt is in your French class," he stated. "It may not translate to English."

Why had that not occurred to Mello? Near seemed to constantly point out things that should've been painfully obvious to him.

"I knew that!" Mello lied.

"You may have," conceded Near. "But because Matt used the same code for everyone's valentines, translating to English for me, I assumed you didn't know."

Near had such a smugness to him! Most wise people would've just ignored Mello, but Near had to rub his nose in it.

Unable to stand it, Mello made a beeline for the library. He could've made Near, or anyone for that matter, tell him the code, but he wasn't about to. He'd worked too long to give up and cheat.

This time, going on Near's advice, Mello managed to solve the puzzle using one of the many techniques he'd tried earlier. It took him an hour, but it was worth it once Mello reached that wonderful moment when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

When it was complete and Mello had it translated to English after ten minutes work, he set about reading it. After all that effort he knew he'd throttle Matt if the message ended up being something trite.

_Hello,_

_I hope did the French didn't throw you. I was afraid it might._

_Since the night you visited me a week ago, you haven't said a word to me or even done anything. Are you angry or is there another reason?_

_Please talk to me again. It feels wrong never seeing you._

_-Matt_

Strange, Mello never thought Matt would miss him. He really didn't think anyone would ever miss him, if he were to be honest.

He kept reading the last sentence over again, still awed by the realisation that Matt actually cared. Mello wasn't foolish enough to turn such an invitation down, and tried to guess where Matt might be. The boy did an hour of homework after school, and did the rest at about seven-thirty. It was a little after seven at the moment, so Mello had no idea where he was.

Thankfully, Wammy's only had a few places one could go. There was the library, the playroom, the rec room, and the indoor pool. Mello tried all of them and finally found Matt in the pool, playing Marco Polo with Keller, Tobias and, by some miracle, that prat Court. How Matt got Court to do anything besides sigh loudly and act indignant was beyond Mello.

Sitting down beside a rack of kickboards, Mello watched the group splashing about. Matt had silly looking green goggles he'd pushed up, causing his red strands to stick up. Mello would never admit it to anyone, but he thought Matt looked adorable.

The game wound down about ten minutes later, and the four of them got up and dried themselves with their towels. While Court and Tobias noticed Mello sitting there, they paid him no mind.

Once relatively dry, the group began to head out, along with Matt who still hadn't noticed him.

"Matt!" Mello called out, holding up the valentine.

Matt nodded his acknowledgement and waved the others off. When the room was clear, he came to stand over Mello, hugging his towel around his shoulders.

Mello stared at him, amused by the sight of Matt wet and flushed with his hair everywhere. He looked so messy!

"Hi," Matt said, sitting down beside Mello and leaning against the wall. "Glad you're speaking to me again. I must've pissed you off when I said I doubt I'd ever like you. Sorry about that."

"Did you mean it?" Mello wanted to get the question over with.

"I dunno," Matt answered. "You've been okay this week. You're not so bad when you don't bully all the time."

Mello gazed out at the water at it reflected off the florescent lights.

"I thought you went everywhere with your girlfriend. Where's she?" asked Mello pointedly.

Matt pulled off the goggles and played with the band to give him something to do.

"Cora's not a girlfriend, I'm too young for that. And she doesn't go everywhere with me. We'd get sick of each other."

"What do you do with her? Does she snog you?" Mello pried. He needed to know and didn't care if he sounded nosy.

Matt narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Just tell me!" insisted Mello.

"Once," said Matt with a sigh. "A peck on the lips."

It still hurt but it was better than Mello had assumed.

"That's it?"

"Yes!" said Matt, annoyed. "I don't want more, it would be┘uncomfortable."

Mello was too interested to drop it. "It's fun, I've done it plenty. Haven't you ever snogged anyone?"

"Why did you finally leave me alone?" Matt retorted.

"Didn't feel like doing anything," said Mello impatiently. "So, haven't you?"

Matt was quite used to Mello's disregard for privacy, but still none too fond of it.

"No!" Matt snapped.

Mello kept at it. "I used to try and do it to you, but you never let me. Why not?"

Matt's goggles made a clink as he threw them down on the cement.

"I didn't want you forcing me to do anything." Matt pulled himself to his feet. "I'm going to my room, unless you're dying to swim."

Mello couldn't have cared less about swimming.

"I do," declared Mello, peeling off his baggy black sweatshirt.

Not looking like he cared whether he swam again or not, Matt laid down his towel, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and got back in the water.

Mello stripped off all the rest of his clothes, ran forward and did a cannonball into the pool.

"Mello! You can't skinny dip!" said Matt, blushing lightly.

"I'm not swimming fully dressed!" snapped Mello before sucking in a breath and diving underwater. He pushed off from the side and swam all the way to the other without coming up for breath.

"Can you do that?" asked Mello.

Without a word, Matt plunged underwater and proved he could.

"Well then, see if you can do it faster than me!" demanded Mello, determined to beat him at something.

The other boy agreed, and seconds later they took off. Much to Mello's delight, he won.

"Ha, you're slow," Mello gloated.

Matt, who didn't have a competitive bone in his body, didn't care. He collected water in his hand and spurted it up through his fingers like a fountain. Mello attempted to follow suit, but had no success.

"Stupid trick," Mello muttered, giving up.

Paying Mello no mind, Matt took a great gulp of air and dunked under the surface. Mello did the same, silently declaring a contest.

The pair sat at the bottom of the pool, holding onto the rail to keep them under, for an eternity. Mello refused to give him until he reached the point of dizziness and panic. Reluctantly he surfaced, starved for air. Matt soon followed, in a better state than Mello.

"I've had a lot of practice," Matt explained. "Growing up near the beach, I've gotten to go swimming since I was a baby."

Mello should've known better than to test his luck in the water with someone from Ipswich Victoria. But hey, at least he swam faster underwater than Matt!

They swam about idly for awhile longer, not paying much mind to each other, until Mello grew bored and pushed himself up on the edge. He sat there kicking his legs in the water and watching Matt swim laps for ages, admiring how graceful the other boy was.

Slowly, Matt glided over and joined Mello on the pool's edge.

"Couldn't you have swum in your boxers?" Matt mumbled, looking steadfastly at the water.

By this point Mello had long since forgotten he was nude. It certainly didn't bother him.

"I wouldn't put wet boxers under dry clothes!" said Mello. "Stop being a prude."

Matt said no more on the subject as he made circles in the water with his toes.

Deciding to do something completely unlike him, Mello said something polite. "Nice valentine. Did you draw the design on the front?"

"Yeah," replied Matt quietly. "Every valentine had a different design and message. I was bored."

Having used up his quota of complements, Mello quieted.

Matt pulled off the goggles and smacked them against the surface, apparently low on things to say. Droplets of water fell from his sodden hair and onto his flushed cheeks. Mello wanted more than anything to kiss him then, but knew Matt wouldn't let him.

"Matt?" he asked softly.

The boy glanced up.

"If I asked first, then would you let me snog you?"

Matt gaped at him.

"I...I don't know," he stuttered. "I told you, I feel weird about it. I know nothing about it and...it looks complicated and confusing. Plus you're a boy, so that makes it even weirder."

He had to bring that up. It hurt, knowing Matt held that against him. But Mello sidestepped that.

"It's not confusing, you learn how to do it quite fast! I've practiced on plenty of people so I'm better at it than anyone here. You'll like it."

Matt hugged his knees, staring down at the water red-faced. When he refused to say anything, Mello got frustrated.

"Forget it, I should've known," groused Mello, pulling his legs out of the water and planning to walk away.

"Mello," Matt called out, sounding vaguely timid. "Do you really want to, or do you just want to control me?"

Ah, so that was the issue. It was understandable.

"No! I...just like you, that's all." Now Mello was blushing. "You don't have to agree."

Why did Mello even bring it up? Hell, why did he even mention it to Jana? Things were easier when he was Matt's enemy.

Matt managed a shy smile.

"No, you can," the boy murmured, sounding unsure. "It is Valentines Day."

After that, Mello couldn't back out. This was turning into far too big a deal, which he wasn't used to.

Mello swiftly grasped the boy's chin and pressed his mouth to Matt's. Disregarding Matt's muffled gasp of shock, Mello worked Matt's mouth open and pushed his tongue in. It was probably too forward for a first kiss, but Mello had no idea what would define subtle, since he wasn't remotely subtle about anything. Still, when he felt Matt freeze up, Mello slowed down the pace. Eventually, the boy responded slightly.

The kiss ended abruptly when Matt pulled away and panted. Didn't he remember to breathe through his nose? Mello thought everyone knew that.

Leaning over the water, Matt began scooping water in his palm and letting the liquid pour out like a sieve. Mello nudged his foot against the hand, wishing Matt would say speak.

"Say something!" yelled Mello.

"It felt funny," Matt finally said. "It was warm and wet and moving, like a heart transplant."

That was the strangest comment Mello had ever heard anyone say after a kiss.

"How?" Mello asked.

"Because you stick your hand into someone's body and feel their heart pulsing, at least until someone stops it," replied Matt matter of factly. "I reckon it feels just like kissing, except you have to sew up the patient after."

Matt really had a way of killing the mood. Scowling, Mello went over to his clothes and changed.

"Don't get sour, it wasn't that bad," Matt assured him as he came over and fetched his towel. "But it was so strange! I don't think I'll want you doing that again. I wouldn't even do that with Cora, and I think she's pretty."

This wasn't making Mello feel better. The unintentional implied insult at the end stung.

"Then you have bad taste!" Mello shot back. "And you won't ever do that with anyone else. If I see you even peck Cora on the cheek I'll make you regret it."

Matt stood over him, back on the defence. "Do _not_ threaten me! You know I'd never let you attack me."

Throwing his towel over his shoulder, Matt turned tail and flounced out, calling back, "Should've known not to bother giving you a chance!"

Mello glowered at the doorway Matt exited, not so mad at Matt as he was about the state of things in general. A little over a half hour of friendship and already they were enemies again. But hey, it was a great half hour, with a kiss no less, so it was worth it.

**The End**


End file.
